Sunday, 25 January 2009

Black dust and Black air.

She stands there breathing her beauty
he inhales, softly, cancerous.

six foot
her face is covered in blue
orange pink
white purple



In the black stone arched emporium,
black dust and black air,
the glitter mirrors on his face.
Her gown flutters and billows, waving like the water.

He kisses her lip, gently.
The glitter begins to blur, smudge,
It blurs and smudges, the horror ensues.

He kisses her cheek, her eyelid, the side of her neck,
but it all blurs.
Her face is now a blur, apart from her shocked eyes, staring, still.

A single tear rolls down his face as he backs away,
the black is coming now,
the black is suffocating
the black is, impalpable.

He tears the glitter off his skin in reams
whilst he stands naked in the canal covered by more stone.
Goosebumps line his thighs.
There are two old women, one shrouded in blackness, knitting, holding a ball of black wool with her feet in the water,
it soaks through and feels like a wet head of dead hair.
The other woman also dressed in black gently peels his sunburnt glitter skin.

The darkness yet again sets in,
the black out.

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